


Tonight, Tonight: The Explicit Outtakes

by KatieHavok



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, Making Love, Neck Kissing, Newt Scamander is a Dork, Oral Sex, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10020272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/pseuds/KatieHavok
Summary: “We shouldn’t sit like this,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving her face. “It’s highly inappropriate.”Tina shrugs, genuinely unconcerned. “Youbeinghere is inappropriate. The way we...the way welookat each other is inappropriate. I’m not worried about it. Are you?”





	1. December 10, 1926

**Author's Note:**

> __  
> **This is a companion piece to my longer, T-rated work titled "Tonight, Tonight". These explicit outtakes can be read alone, if you're just looking for smut. However, I recommend your read the story so you get the full picture; otherwise, certain elements of this may not make a lot of sense.**  
>   
> 
> You can find "Tonight, Tonight" [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9873326).

*

**_December 10, 1926_ **

“Teenie. Teenie! Criminy, Tina, wake _up_!”

Tina grunts and swats at the hand shaking her, clutching the unraveling edge of a lovely dream featuring her favorite magizoologist and his strong, scarred hands, before coming awake all at once.

“Queenie!” she gasps, and then glares at her alarm clock. “ _Queenie_. Why are you waking me up? It’s _not even midnight_!”

Queenie flutters and shushes her. “It’s Newt,” she says helplessly, and now Tina can see the tension in her sister’s frame. “He’s dreaming terrible things and he projects _awfully_ and I can’t block him out. Can’t you go wake him up?”

Tina growls in her throat while tossing back her blankets. “I _can_ ,” she bites out as she works her feet into her house shoes. “I just don’t see why _I_ have to do it. Couldn’t you go yourself?”

Queenie shakes her head and slips into her bed, suddenly timid. “Sorry, Teenie,” she says meekly. “It’s just...it’s not _me_ he wants to see when he wakes up. You know? Go to him, please. Make him some cocoa maybe. He’s sweet on you, you know.”

Tina scrubs at her face with her hand and ignores her sister’s declaration. “You’re all wet,” she growls. “But I’m up now so I guess I’ll go take care of this. Thanks a lot, Queenie.”

She doesn’t give Queenie a chance to respond, just eases the pocket door open and steps through. Her irritation evaporates as soon as it closes behind her, however, and sudden concern spurs her into picking her careful way over to the couch.

Newt is moaning in the back of his throat, and it isn’t a happy sound. Tina watches as he flinches into the cushion and utters a harsh bark of noise she thinks may be garbled words. Then he goes still for one, two, three seconds before shuddering deeply and crying out.

Tina reaches a hand toward him at the same instant Newt shakes himself awake, releasing a harsh breath of air and jerking upright. His forehead connects solidly with her outstretched hand and they both yelp—him in pain and her in surprise. Tina covers her mouth as an inappropriate bout of giggles sweeps over her, unable to repress her sudden outburst of morbid humor. Newt glowers and rubs his forehead ruefully before squinting at her.

“If you’d wanted to wake me Tina, there are better ways to go about it than _punching me in the head_ ,” he growls, and Tina bends double with renewed gusts of laughter. Newt grunts when she collapses bonelessly onto his legs, and Tina feels him twitch irritably against her while she begins the long, slow process of calming down.

“I’m sorry,” she finally gasps, wiping her eyes. Newt sits up to survey her properly, irritation bleeding away. He casually brushes her tears of mirth away with this thumb, causing Tina’s breath to catch in her throat. He then dries his fingers on his pajamas and stares at her in the dark, carefully and with no small amount of confusion. Tina smiles, but it feels wobbly on her face and she allows it to slip away.

“You were dreaming,” she says weakly, and he nods, jaw tight. “It woke up Queenie and she came to me. She wanted me to make sure you were okay, and I was reaching out to shake you when you sat up and, well...” She gestures vaguely and Newt blinks slowly. He swallows, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks to her mother’s afghan.

“So sorry, Tina,” he whispers. One finger winds around a loose thread in the blanket and Tina reaches out to catch his hand without thinking. She doesn’t move it away when he goes still, and he looks at it through wide eyes before continuing. “I’ve been dreaming the past two nights. I didn’t realize that your sister was subject to them. I will seek other lodging in the morning. I’ve no wish to be a burden.”

Tina squeezes his fingers. “We don’t want you to leave,” she reassures gently. Newt looks up at her tentatively. She squeezes him again, a little stronger. “Please stay. We enjoy having you here, truly.” Tina manages a small smile, and Newt releases a slow breath to relax against the arm of the couch.

“Well. If you insist,” he concedes finally, and Tina allows her smile to turn into a grin.

“I do.”

Newt turns his hand so their palms press together and wraps slender fingers around her wrist. He squeezes gently when Tina reciprocates the gesture, then searches her face before scissoring open his legs. “Here,” he says, and Tina rearranges herself until she’s seated between his knees. It’s a calculated risk—the gesture is improper and indecent and absolutely _perfect_ , especially when he tugs the blanket from beneath her and drapes it over them both. She can feel the bend of his knee and the coiled strength of his legs pressed against her back and hips. She sighs contently and leans into him.

“We shouldn’t sit like this,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving her face. “It’s highly inappropriate.”

Tina shrugs, genuinely unconcerned. “You _being_ here is inappropriate. The way we...the way we _look_ at each other is inappropriate. I’m not worried about it. Are you?”

Newt swallows and drops his eyes to the blanket. “No,” he says hoarsely. Then his eyes widen when her words sink in, and Tina bites her lip when he forces himself to look at her. “You said, ‘the way we look at each other’. Er, you—you noticed that?” He winces at his clumsy words and hurries on. “I’m sorry, I mean—I never meant to be improper. Only that you’re very...lovely. _Beautiful_ , really, and I can’t seem to—that is, my eyes, um.” He stalls and makes a helpless go-on gesture with his hand, and Tina allows him to flounder only for a moment before casting a line.

“ _Newt_. It’s either obscenely late or absurdly early, depending on your perspective. We are together on a couch, beneath a blanket, unchaperoned. I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I _know_ you notice the way I look at you. It’s dark, it’s early, and we won’t talk about it in the morning.” She shrugs, trying desperately to project an air of confidence, but the slight tremor in her voice betrays her. “Neither of us will act on it.”

Newt _freezes_ , and his hand tightens on hers until her fingers creak in warning. Tina holds her breath and Newt stares before blinking hard and seeming to realize that he’s causing her pain. He relaxes and murmurs an apology. “So sorry,” he breathes—then he lifts her hand to his mouth and she can _feel_ his words when his lips brush against her knuckles. 

Goosebumps race up Tina’s arm at the contact, and she sees the answering shiver that works through Newt. His gaze doesn’t waver when he repeats the gesture, a bold amplification of seconds earlier. Then he rotates her hand and his lips pepper her palm, her wrist, and the soft skin of her forearm.

“Tell me to stop,” he manages between kisses, and the bass note of his voice goes straight through her. She shakes her head in the negative, hair flying, and he _purrs_ as he kisses his way to her elbow, pushing the sleeve of her pajamas out of the way. Newt leans forward to kiss her shoulder, making an impatient sound when that reach proves far too short. Tina rolls onto her knees and straddles his thigh, Newt making a liquid sound when she settles down onto him. His mouth bypasses her upper arm and shoulder to hone in unerringly on her throat, and thinking suddenly becomes very, very difficult.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he reminds her, but his mouth works in direct contrast to his words, kissing and suckling up the column of her neck before latching onto the hinge of her jaw. His tongue flicks out to taste her and she gasps loudly, unwilling and unable to smother the sound. He hums encouragingly and skims his teeth over her skin to her ear. He suckles the soft skin at her hairline and Tina jerks against him.

“Newton Scamander, don’t you _dare_ stop,” she gasps raggedly as she fists the blanket, and he huffs and drags a line of kisses across her cheek. He pauses just sort of her mouth, hovering uncertainly, and Tina’s eyes drift close. His voice trembles when he speaks, pitched almost too low for her ears.

“M-may I kiss you, Tina?”

A tingle spreads through her as he breathes into her skin. She’s smiling slightly when she turns her head and allows him to capture her lips in a kiss that is _anything_ but awkward. His mouth _claims_ hers, lips and tongue working in harmony to thoroughly unhinge her. Newt works her with confidence and no small amount of possession, and she moans happily. He opens his mouth and inhales the sound, warming it in himself before returning it to her as a heated gasp.

Newt’s fingers tangle in her hair, and he breaks the kiss to trail a wet line down her neck. “So lovely,” he breathes in awe as he flicks his tongue over her voice box, and her moan causes him to clamp his lips against her and _suckle_. Tina keens, a flash of heat pulsing through her center, and Newt utters a muffled grunt and tears his mouth from her.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Newt repeats shakily, fingers releasing her hair to smooth over her scalp. He kisses her cheek chastely, and Tina groans and tips their foreheads together. She finds and holds his gaze as she grinds onto his thigh and he gasps, fingers tightening around her waist. Tendrils of lazy warmth work through her when his teeth find her skin and nip, just this side of too-hard, and he makes a helpless sound.

“I want to do this,” she promises, and leans into him to find the lobe of his ear. She suckles it and he _groans_ , head tossed back as his fingers tighten, tighten, _tighten_. Tina moves her mouth to his neck, listening and feeling his gasps and pants as she works him over thoroughly. She grinds into his thigh rhythmically and his hips twitch against her. _Like that, do you?_ she thinks, and she’s thankful for the dark because it hides her wild grin.

Newt gasps her name and brings his hands up to cradle her head, kissing her hard enough to bruise. Tina melts into it while her center pulsates with familiar heat. His tongue plunders her mouth and Tina winds her fingers into his pajama top. She wriggles against his firm thigh, seeking connection while her fingers slide against his skin.

Newt relinquishes her with a groan, returning his mouth to the enticing patch of skin on her chest, his fingers moving to the line of buttons on the front of her pajamas. “These need to come _off_ ,” he growls artlessly, and Tina chokes out her confirmation as her hips begin an autonomous roll against his leg, desperate for friction. 

His trembling fingers are amazingly sure and in no time at all he’s peeling the one piece garment off her, freeing her torso before allowing it to pool around her hips and thighs. His hands cup her breast, nipples going instantly hard. Then he sucks one into his torrid mouth, tongue swirling around the peak, and Tina knots her fingers into his hair as she arches into him.

Newt’s answering groan and the tremble that rocks him causes her to smile blissfully. His hand ghosts over her chest and quivering stomach before trailing further down, and she halts the sway of her hips long enough to allow him push her pajamas off entirely. They’re left forgotten on the floor as he weaves his fingers through the thatch of hair guarding her mound before brushing against her swollen quim. Tina keens and pushes eagerly into the contact.

“So _wet_ already,” he purrs, sounding immensely satisfied with her state. Her head falls back with a choked cry as Newt sucks at her collarbone hard enough to leave a mark. He brushes a finger through her wet folds before cupping his hand and encouraging her to lean into it. “Use my hand,” he growls, and she moans as she starts to move.

Tina hears the click when he swallows, and his other hand rises to his chest. Tina watches through hazy eyes as Newt opens his own top and mottled skin that has featured in over-heated dreams expands before her, a moonlit expanse of freckles, scars, and stories unshared. Deep tremors take her core as she leans forward and touches him with her hands and mouth, until her head falls forward when his fingers begins to work in direct counterpoint to her grinding.

She sobs as her focus spirals and contracts inward, roving hands made still as she teeters on the cusp and seeks the final push. A warm mouth slants over her ear, a cherished voice breathes, “I’ve got you, Tina,” and she’s _there_ , thrown over the edge hard enough to shake herself off him entirely as she implodes, crying out joyously with the force of her release.

Newt’s arms come around her as she collapses, and he pulls her close to tuck her into his lap while she recovers. Her vision pulsates in time with her heartbeat but there’s enough ambient light to see his face, clearly overjoyed at having satisfied her. He notes her watching him and smiles bashfully before gifting her with a gentle kiss. Tina closes her eyes and melts into it, accepting it for the benediction it is, and he sighs when he pulls away.

“That was alright, then?” He asks, sounding apprehensive. Tina grins, showing her teeth and the dimple hidden in her left cheek, and cards gentle fingers through his hair.

“That was _perfect_ ,” she reassures him, and he beams at her. Tina notices his arousal pressing against her insistently when she shifts, but Newt ducks his head and a blush heats his cheeks. He kisses her one more time and lifts her so she’s no longer pressed into him.

“Ignore it,” he says diffidently. “It will go away on it’s own.” He sounds relieved when she shifts, more in control of himself, and Tina is very tired—so she does as he insists, and gently brushes her open palms over his chest before buttoning his shirt. He catches her fingers with gentle teeth and admonishes her to stand and retrieving her pajamas. He helps her dress before reclining flat on the couch, arms open in invitation.

“Will you join me, Tina?” he asks tenderly, and she wastes no time with hesitation, instead draping herself next to him. The couch is narrow, and they are pressed together from shoulder to thigh. He rolls onto his side and wraps an arm around her, and she can feel the weight of his gaze as he worshipfully traces her profile with his eyes. He shifts to cover them with the blanket and she can smell her essence on his hands, not unpleasant.

“You’re very beautiful,” he breathes as he trails a series of small kisses along her temple. He hums and runs his fingers through her hair before dragging his hand over her neck to trace senseless patterns into the flannel covering her shoulder. He yawns widely enough to crack his jaw and Tina closes her eyes as his arm settles around her. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” he whispers.

Delicate fingers trace the spur of bone at his wrist before Tina finds his scar-flecked forearm and draws lines between each one, creating constellations against the map of his skin. She traces his sinewy muscles and hums when he sighs, fluttering her eyes open long enough to watch his drift closed.

Tina falls asleep to the soothing sound of his heart beating in her ear, a small smile playing about her lips.

*


	2. December 11, 1926

*

**_December 11, 1926_ **

Newt is awakened by a musical burst of feminine laughter. It takes him a disorienting moment to realize that it doesn’t come from his bedmate—couch-mate?—but rather from the other side of the room.

He cracks open one eye, wincing when it’s speared by weak sunlight, and takes a cautious look around. Queenie stands by the bedroom doors, wand held loosely in her fingers and gaze mock-stern as she takes them in. “Well, it looks like _somebody_ had a good night!” She exclaims, and Newt feels heat flood his face.

“Um—er—” he says eloquently, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Queenie slaps her hands over her mouth and giggles madly, doing an odd little bounce where she stands. “Oh, Mr. Scamander,” she gushes. “You’ve no idea how happy Teenie will be! She’s been mooning over you for days. She may have even had a daydream or two.” She winks saucily, and his mind goes back to how they’d defiled the couch last night.

Newt shakes his head briskly to drive _that_ image away before turning to observe Tina. She’s still deeply asleep, lips parted in gentle snores. He very slowly extricates his numb right arm from beneath her, careful not to disturb her rest, and discreetly checks to make sure his pajamas are fastened before sliding out from under the covers.

He winces at the pins and needles in his arm as he rubs feeling back into it, and his mind inevitably returns to their pleasant activities of the previous evening. He watches Tina sleep, smiling slightly as her face flashes through his mind: blissed-out and satisfied, focused and hungry, delicate hands rubbing against his—

“ _Yech!_ ” Queenie groans, closing her eyes. “It’s bad enough you two forgot your privacy charms, I _do not_ need to see my sister in that state!” She winces prettily and delicately rubs her temples. Newt hastily pushes all thoughts of Tina to the back of his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles to her feet. “Next time, we’ll make sure to use the proper precautions. Um, assuming there is a...next time.” He finishes with a wheeze, aware of just how _bad_ it sounds, but Queenie smiles gently and lets him off the hook. His arm has regained feeling so he drops his hand and squints out the window before glancing at the clock. “It’s quite early, Miss Goldstein. What are you doing awake?”

“Call me Queenie,” she says with a fragrant wave, and Newt inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“Tina’s alarm woke me, actually. She’s going back to work today and I was getting up to make breakfast. She wasn’t in her bed and I wondered where she was, but I wasn’t expecting to find you two wrapped around each other.” She flashes a teasing smile but grows serious as she sets about preparing eggs and toast. “You two could be good together, Mr. Scamander. I know how you think about her. Promise me you’ll do your best to make her happy.”

Newt discovered early on that looking at Queenie wasn’t nearly as difficult as looking at other people. Possibly because he has no interest in her outside of their strange, tentative friendship, or maybe because she reminds him so strongly of Jacob—someone else he’d rarely averted his eyes around. Either way, he finds himself mostly comfortable with watching her cheek and jaw as he fumbles around his own mind, trying to find the easiest way to voice his thoughts.

“I’ll do my best,” he finally settles on, knowing how weak and insufficient it sounds. Queenie can see the truth of the statement in his heart however, and she beams.

“That’s all I ask,” she chirps as she turns back to the stove. “I can’t have my Jacob but Tina...well, as long as she gets her Newt, I guess I’m happy.”

_Jacob. Jacob!_

A nebulous, half-formed idea solidifies and lands with an almost audible _thump_ in the fore of his mind, and his companion stiffens and whirls to face him. She appears to be struggling against a radiant smile, unwilling to give in to hope just yet but unable to refrain entirely. Newt struggles to untangle the threads of his thoughts and push them _forward_ , allowing her to view them. She gives in, a smile as bright and golden as sunshine spreading across her face.

“Mr. Scamander,” she breathes. “He’d be able to get his bakery. Oh, it would make him so happy!”

She crosses the room and enfolds him in a floral embrace, as light as air against him. Newt gives her a token pat on the back and she beams at him when she turns away to skip back to the stove. He watches her bemusedly, warmth infusing his chest at her obvious joy, and wonders if this is what it feels like to be an older brother.

“I’d imagine so,” she chirps, and he rolls his eyes gently. “You should go wake Tina up,” she goes on, cracking eggs into a skillet. “I think she’d rather see you first thing. Be sure and give her a sound one, right on the kisser!”

Newt chooses not to dignify that with a response, instead ambling into the living room. He ensures his bedclothes are straight and runs a distracted hand over his hair in a useless attempt at smoothing it. He perches gingerly on the edge of the couch and takes her hand, rubbing the calloused pad of his thumb over her smooth skin. “Tina,” he croons. “Tina, love, it’s time to get up.”

Tina makes a soft sound in her sleep and shifts, her hand tightening around his. Newt squeezes where they are connected and brushes a knuckle over her cheek. “Come on, Tina.” He finds he can’t use his normal tone of voice, instead gentling it to something he’d use with an injured or scared creature. “Wake up, you return to work today.”

Tina comes awake all at once, eyes blinking open and landing on him with startling focus. “Newt?” she asks, squinting in confusion before sitting up and looking around. She glances at the clock, at him, and down at herself before returning her eyes to him. “Um, last night...that wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t!” Queenie calls breezily from the kitchen, and Newt tosses her an annoyed glare over his shoulder. _Bugger out of the conversation,_ he thinks at her, only half-joking, and she snorts laughter into the toast she’s buttering.

“It was not,” he says much more calmly to Tina. She swallows and looks at his fingers, holding hers warmly, before covering the hand pressed to her cheek with her own.

“ _Good_ ,” she says emphatically, and leans forward to kiss him.

It’s slower and softer than many of the kisses shared the previous evening, but no less passionate. He sighs when they eventually part, before leaning in to place a line of small nibbles along her cheek. “My, you are good at that,” she breathes into his ear, and he feels the shiver that runs through her. Tina wraps her arms about his waist and pulls him close, and he melts into it while inhaling the clean scent of her hair.

“That’s enough of that,” Queenie says softly, sounding apologetic. “Tina, you’ve got work and just barely enough time to get ready. Mr. Scamander, I need your help with a few things today, if you don’t mind. Close the bank, you two.”

Thoroughly chastised—though in the nicest way possible—Newt untangles himself from Tina and helps her up. She brushes her mouth over his cheek fleetingly before wandering toward the kitchen and sitting down to Queenie’s sumptuous breakfast. She makes an irritated sound when she glances at the clock before bolting eggs and toast and washing it down with strong, black coffee. Newt and Queenie eat at a more leisurely pace, and wait until Tina’s safely ensconced in the bathroom before making plans.

“This morning,” Newt says urgently, and Queenie nods.

“We’ll go and feel things out, see what’s what. Tina and I have work tomorrow, so you can do it then, or you can drop it off tonight. We’ll see after we snoop a bit!” She speaks rapidly out of the corner of her mouth, and then pastes on a smile when Tina returns to the apartment.

“No hot water,” Tina growls as she slams the door behind her. “I don’t know why that keeps happening, but I had to take a whores bath in the sink. I’m going to feel filthy all day.” Newt focuses very hard on the fork in his hand and does his utmost _not_ to think about the activities that had led to her feeling so dirty. He suspects he does a bad job of it, if the blush infusing Queenie’s face is any indication. _Sorry_ he thinks, and she waves a hand weakly.

“Well, I have to go.” Tina says after sending a hard look his way. Newt scrambles to his feet, very nearly slipping in his haste, and walks her to the door.

“When will you be home?” he asks while helping her into her jacket.

“I’m not sure,” she replies, looking nervous. “It depends on a lot of things, but I’ll try to be home early. I’d like to spend some time with you tonight. Talking and...other things...” She trails off and chews her lip. Newt leans forward to displace her teeth, nibbling her lip gently before kissing her soundly.

“Talking and ‘other things’ sounds wonderful to me,” he reassures in a whisper as a slow smile spreads across his face. “Now, off you go. Mustn't be late on your first day back. Do try and stay out of trouble, Tina. I only have so many favors to call upon.”

Tina laughs and pecks his forehead before hurrying out the door. He hovers until he hears the front door close behind her; then he sighs and closes his eyes, leaning against the wood and trying to reign in the whirl of his thoughts.

“You got a lot goin’ on up there, Mr. Scamander,” Queenie says dryly. “Don’t worry, she’s just as happy and confused as you are. You two are made for each other.” She hums thoughtfully, and Newt hears the sounds of her getting dressed. He carefully keeps his eyes averted until she’s finished. 

“Now c’mon, let’s go track down my Jacob.”

Newt fetches his clothes and strides toward his case. “Allow me to feed my creatures. You can help, if you’d like. It’ll go much faster that way. And please, call me Newt.”

“Newt,” she chirps, following him. “I can do that. Let’s get these beasts fed so we can hit the road!”

*

Finding Jacob’s factory is easier than either of them anticipate, and they hover outside the gates in hopes of catching a glimpse of him until a foreman drives them off. “He’s lucky I didn’t hex his soupbone off!” Queenie seethes as she strides away, and Newt makes a careful mental note to never end up on the working end of her wand. She throws him a half-amused, half-frustrated look and he ventures a timid smile.

“It isn’t entirely bad,” he gentles. “We now know what shift Jacob works, and what time he will be relieved. I will come back later and drop the case. You won’t be able to see him, but I’ll let you take it from my mind, if you’d like. If it wouldn’t be a bother, I could use some help gathering the occamy shells. Perhaps you’d accompany me when we return to the flat?”

“Apartment,” she corrects airily, and drops a teasing wink. It’s enough to restore her good mood, however, and Newt flushes with relief before allowing her to lead him to a local café. She treats him to a serviceable scone and over-steeped tea, and Newt carefully hands over the last of his American currency. “I’ve no use for this,” he explains awkwardly, “and I won’t be an undue burden on either of you. Please take it, with my thanks.”

Queenie tucks the money into her coin purse without a word, still smiling softly at him. “You really are a good man, Newt Scamander,” she tells him softly, and he isn’t sure what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he drinks his tea and tracks the flow of people around the establishment, absently chewing his scone before allowing her to lead him back to the brownstone.

*

Newt uses a Gemino spell to replicate his case, and employs a slick bit of magic to reproduce the bad clasp. Queenie helps him fill it with silver occamy shells until the sides of the case groan, and Newt employs a few minor charms to help him heft it.

Returning to the factory is a calculated risk, but one he’s willing to take. It breaks his heart a little to leave Queenie behind, but he meant what he said: he would record it all with his well-ordered mind and let her drink it from him later. He reflects fondly on how novel and bizarre it is, to be welcomed by not one woman but _two_ , before Disapparating to the factory and disillusioning himself until the change-of-shift horn sounds.

In the end, it goes off better than he could have hoped. He times it well and stays out of sight until he’s within feet of Jacob. Then he bumps into him in a calculated move and, quick as a flash, swaps the cases. 

“So sorry—sorry!” He infuses his voice with as much of his so-called ‘accent’ as he’s able to muster, hoping that it may jog some stray memory of Jacob’s, before moving swiftly and purposefully through the crowd.

Newt ducks into a convenient alley and watches Jake struggle onward with his new, heavier load. _It’s all in Merlin’s hands now_ , he thinks, but he can’t suppress the grin that spreads across his face.

*

Newt shares the memory with Queenie, as promised, and she drinks it from his head slowly, relishing it like fine wine. He’s careful to relegate his thoughts and feelings about Tina to the _back_ of his head while she pokes around, and she sighs wetly when she finally releases him. “He’ll be fine now,” she says, and Newt debates sharing a theory with her. In the end, he can’t stand to see her suffer, so he worries his hands and wonders how to broach the subject.

She feeds him soup heavy with vegetables, and Newt waits until the bowls are pushed away before giving her his full attention. “There may be a way for him to remember,” he begins slowly. “The Swooping Evil venom—in my trials, it only worked on _bad_ memories. Positive memories were sometimes tarnished, but they usually remained almost entirely intact.” He watches the hope dawning across her features and clears his throat roughly. “Jacob may yet be able to remember you, and us, if his memory were to be properly jogged. Say, by seeing an individual for whom he has a certain...affection.”

Queenie crows with delight before flicking her wand to clean up their supper. “Oh, Newt!” she enthuses, hands clasped between her breasts. “That would be swell! Oh, I’ll have to go visit his bakery for sure now!”

He nods, glad she understands his meaning, before allowing her to shoo him from the kitchen. He climbs into his case to tend to the creatures, spending extra time with the depressed erumpent and stroking the occamy’s, chasing the niffler and delousing the demiguise before returning to the apartment and nursing a glass of Dragon’s Fire whiskey.

“You’re sleeping in the bedroom tonight. I’ll take the couch,” Queenie murmurs after a time, and he raises his glass to indicate his thanks.

“Pour me one’a those, would ya?” She asks, so he does, and they sit and sip their drinks in companionable silence, Queenie working on a new and lovely dove gray dress while he flips through one of Tina’s charms books. The clock chimes nine and she makes an unhappy sound before glaring at it.

“I’m sorry, Newt,” she sighs, and she sounds it. “I have to go in early tomorrow for some stupid meeting. I’m going to have to ask you to go into the bedroom so I can get my beauty sleep.”

Newt shrugs and drains his glass before sending it to the sink. He fetches his bag and sneaks to the bathroom to perform his evening toilet while Queenie dresses the couch. When he returns, she’s already in her nightclothes and the couch is prettily made with linens. “You can lay down in Teenie’s bed,” she says with a giggle. “Whatever you do, don’t _do_ anything in mine. I don’t need to be thinking about it.”

Newt swallows as he feels his ears heat up. “We’ll be careful, Queenie,” he promises, and she grows serious.

“I know you will, honey,” she says, giving him a gentle, one-armed hug. “You treat my sister right tonight. Don’t go giving her any trouble.” She drops a soft kiss on his cheek before floating away, and he watches until she’s out of the room and the door is closed firmly behind her.

“Trouble. Right,” he muses, and tucks himself into Tina’s bed. Her searches her selection of books until he finds a likely candidate, and turns to the index in search of a very specific spell. Then he settles down to read, one part of his brain on high-alert for any sign of his woman.

*

Newt’s drowsing and nearly asleep when Tina materializes before him, looking slightly wild and very worried. “I am _so sorry_ ,” she bursts out in a whisper, reaching up to yank off her cloche hat. “We found Mr. Graves and it was a mess while we got all that sorted out. I had to stay and help because we didn’t have enough security.”

Newt comes awake in an instant. “They found Graves? Is he well?”

Tina sighs and shrugs out of her jacket before pulling her blouse from her trousers. “No,” she says finally, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “I don’t know what Grindelwald did to him but it wasn’t pretty. He just babbled when we tried to talk to him. He was badly injured and delirious with pain.” She grimaces delicately and bends to pull off her brogues. Then she leans to brush her mouth against his. “I’m beat. Gimme a few to clean up, then I’ll come to bed.”

He nods and watches her steal out of the room. He returns her book to it’s rightful spot and smooths the sheets while he waits, mind drifting along without any conscious oversight, diligently researched spell forgotten. Tina returns after a short while and he can smell her soap. She hesitates for only a moment before pulling off her blouse and trousers. She looks at him carefully, almost shyly as she stands in her foundation garments. “Um. Do you still want to do...that?”

Newt nods and gives her his softest smile. “Of course, Tina. If you’re still willing, that is.” 

He watches her swallow before loosening and peeling off her girdle and stockings, and dropping her step-ins. She reaches for her pajamas and Newt clears his throat gently. She glances at him and he shakes his head once, quickly. Tina narrows her eyes at her bed clothes before returning them to the wardrobe. Then she’s crossing the room, moonstone skin glowing in the low light that shades her curves and angles, and Newt’s throat goes dry.

He sits up while she steps into the ring of his arms. Newt pulls her close with a sigh to bury his face in her slightly rounded, sexy little belly, while Tina finds and pets the nape of his neck. Newt moves to his knees and kisses a slow trail over her sternum. His hand lifts to mold to the globe of her breast, nipple going instantly hard against his palm. He tweaks it while making a pleased sound in the back of his throat.

Newt drags his mouth further downward, covering her chest and stomach with kisses before dipping his tongue into the hollow of her navel. He drags his mouth lower still, crouching to lick a broad strip over the top of her mound while Tina hisses and rakes her nails across his scalp. Newt unfurls and stretches his neck to reclaim her mouth until she whimpers and he can feel the tremble in her thighs. He breaks away to pepper her face and jaw and chest with small, scratchy kisses. He sucks a dusty pink nipple into his mouth and tongues it, and she keens and digs her nails into his shoulders.

Newt pays careful attention to her breathing as he worships her breasts, first one then the other. Her nipples are bright red and ravished when her breath starts to hitch, so he crouches and nips at the crease of her thigh instead. “Tina,” he asks, infusing his tone with sensuality. “Can I taste you?”

Tina voices a liquid moan and Newt shivers as the blood flow in his body suddenly redirects southward. Heat coils in his groin, hard and insistent, and he kisses her deeply enough to bruise before gentling the kiss. “Lie down,” he whispers, hands supporting her as she props herself on the pillow. He covers her with himself, fully clothed against her nakedness, and he groans at the heady feel of her lethal curves through his pajamas.

Tina grasps his top and her fingers slide against the buttons without fanfare. He shrugs it off and her hands claim the skin on his chest, shoulders and back for her own. He presses his face into her hair as she tastes him experimentally, until an eager tongue finds his flat nipple and his groan reverberates through them both. She does it again and he trembles as lightning flares through him.

“Yours are sensitive, too,” she muses, and her skin absorbs his chuckle. She presses her face into his textured neck and he gasps when she kisses and sucks the skin there, leaving faint love-bites behind. “Um, Newt? Before you...you know, will you let me...” She trails off and looks purposefully downward, and he can’t hide the small smile on his lips.

“Of course, Tina,” he breathes, and her hands find the waistband of his pajama bottoms. “Go ahead,” he encourages softly when she hesitates. His Tina draws a deep breath and yanks them down, eyes never leaving his face. Newt shimmies his hips to assist before leaning over and kicking them off. Then she’s watching him, and he isn’t sure if it’s nerves or anticipation that stilts her hands and eyes.

“It’s all right,” he fumbles, pitching his voice low. “You don’t have to do _anything_ you don’t want to, Tina. We can stop now, if you wish.” She stares for another moment before shaking her head, sucking in a deep breath and pushing him gently away. She guides him into a crouch while she kneels before him, eyes slowly trailing down his body until they stop just below his navel. She closes her eyes briefly before dropping them, landing on the secret part of him with a gasp and a sigh.

Newt looks at himself critically, trying to see things from her perspective. It’s an impressive enough sight, he supposes. He’s not excessively large and he isn’t disappointingly small. If he had to compare it to anything, it would be his hands: elegantly built, obviously capable and with a smattering of freckles throughout. He watches as if in a dream when she raises a hand and boldly meets his gaze. Then she wraps her long, cool fingers around him, and he’s forced to squeeze his eyes shut.

She strokes him experimentally and his head falls forward of its own accord, a long, ragged sigh escaping him. She does it again and a molten pulse works through him, originating in his core and radiating outward as she settles into a rhythm. He allows her explorations for only a few moments before fumbling to cover her hand with his own. “No more of that,” he admonishes gently, “Or this will be over before it’s properly begun.”

Tina blinds him with her smile and lets him go. She arranges herself across the pillows and parts her legs invitingly, tugging him over her by the wrists. Breathless and dazzled by her sultry gaze and smile, he drops to lay between her thighs, hands hooking into the bend of her knee while he takes her in from below.

She is delicate down here, and Newt has to remind himself to breath as he examines her lovingly. Three experimental fingers cover her entirely, and Newt presses his forehead into her leg and squeezes his eyes shut to control the primal urges that surge through him. 

_Easy, easy_ , he rebukes himself. He drags his eyes back to her center and takes in her swollen outer lips, plump and glistening, enticing him to touch and taste. He uses the tips of his fingers to part her and reveal the folds hidden within, pearly with fluid. Above, swollen with arousal, the bud of her clit implores a roving finger or the exploratory sweep of his tongue.

Newt groans and bites his lip. He _wants_ to bury his face in her quim and lick and ravage until she begs for him to stop. He longs to suckle her clit until she bucks and keens his name in a bid for release. Instead, he spreads her wider and explores the flower hidden within, the silky petals and narrow maw meant to accommodate something _more_ than his tongue or finger. 

He gulps, she moans and something darkly erotic curls around the base of his spine. He dips his mouth to her abruptly and draws his tongue up, starting at the base of her slit and over her tight bud. Tina trembles and moans and does not ask him to stop.

Her flavor is heady, salty and sweet and entirely _Tina_. He intensifies his explorations while her thighs come to moor on his shoulders, heels digging into his back as she moves against him. He welcomes the pressure of her strong legs because it keeps him grounded in the moment. He stiffens his tongue and jabs it into her, sampling the nectar within, and she grinds unashamedly against his face.

Newt switches up his technique, curling his tongue around the nub of her clit, and a primal roll takes her hips. He uses the press of his arms to contain and ride out her bucking, jaw loose as he moves with her before wrapping his lips around her bud and suckling. He buries two fingers in her heat and she jerks. Newt can feel her drawing tight around him, so he flicks his tongue against her in quick, delicate strokes until she keens and shudders and yanks his hair. He presses harder, thrusts faster, and she pulses around his fingers and sobs his name when she comes.

Newt rides her out patiently, waiting for the quivering to fade before resuming his slow laps. Warm, slightly sweet fluid trickles from deeper within and he licks it up with a happy groan, sampling the evidence of her release. He persists until she yanks his hair impatiently and her thighs quiver against his cheeks.

“Newt,” she gasps, voice thick. “Please.”

He nips her inner thigh in parting before sitting up and making a show of sucking his fingers clean. She watches with avid eyes while his tongue flashes in the dark, until she moans and clutches him with trembling legs. He voices a laugh, as rough as water through a throat of stones, and she makes another choked sound. 

“What do you need, love?” he purrs, and she tugs his arms. He resists her pulls, intent on hearing her say it.

“You,” she finally breathes, frustration edging her words. “Newt. _Newt_ , please.”

“What part of me?” he asks, teasing without shame. Newt allows her to pull him over her until her nipples cut into his chest and their thighs bump together. He waits patiently for her to say it, watching her face. _Say it, and I am yours_ , he thinks.

Tina growls her frustration, thighs squeezing his shanks, and Newt drops his head to suck her neck. “I need you inside me,” she finally manages on an exhale, and it isn’t really the words he seeks but Newt hums and releases her skin. The dark urge curled around his spine simultaneously expands and contracts, and he feels a species of triumph at the confession. _Tina. My Tina_.

“Do you want me to make you come again?” he asks baldly, and the sensuality in her answering moan makes his balls tingle. He clenches his teeth and measures his breaths.

“Yes,” she gasps, and Newt pulls her beneath him until her legs wrap loosely around his waist and they are lined up. He presses his lips to her ear and hums when her hand wraps around him to guide his way. Tina hisses as he nudges against her, warmth of a different sort engulfing him when he presses his advantage, splaying her outer petals to sink into the jungle-heat hidden at the core of her. He slots them together until he’s engulfed fully and can go no further. He moans when their centers meet and grinds them to a halt, hips trembling with restrained potential. Tina winds around him and crosses her legs over his back while her hands find a temporary home on his shoulders.

_Just like quicksand_ , he thinks dazedly as her heat seeps into him.

Tina rolls her hips beneath him and electricity trickles down his spine. She runs her fingertips over his back before her fingernails cut it, leaving livid red marks. They moan in unison as pleasure/pain skitters across his nerves and Newt musters himself enough to _move_ , withdrawing almost entirely to sink back in. He presses the wall of his chest into Tina’s and her mouth falls open as she exhales her pleasure.

Newt rocks them together, hands flitting between her hair, her breast, her hip. Her nails rake over his skin, blunt teeth christening his chest and shoulders. She gives and he takes, groaning her name into her hair. He gives and she takes, holding him close and gasping his name in the dark. He surges into her deeply, drawing them both out, and her textured walls grip him _tight tight tight_ while he shivers, on the brink and losing control.

“You need to come,” he manages through clenched teeth, and Tina gasps loudly. He stretches his neck to nip her wrist before motioning with his chin. “Help yourself,” he begs, and her fingers drift between them to circle her clit. Newt watches her hand through slitted eyes, hissing through his teeth as she works herself over. He can feel her brushing against where he thrusts into her, and his head drops forward as he surrenders entirely to hedonism.

Fucking her is like burying himself in warm, quivering velvet and he does it over and over, powerless to stop, each shuddering thrust bringing him closer to the primitive edge. He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels her coil around him, and Tina arches into her release while moaning his name, quim pulsing unmercifully. Her fingers stop their rubbing to tangle into his hair, spreading her musty essence around. Newt’s mouth latches onto her neck, biting hard enough to leave a lavish bruise there before soothing it with the flat of his tongue.

Tina uncrosses her legs to press her hands into the small of his back, urging him on as the knot at the base of his spine dissolves in a molten flux. He growls when his climax sweeps him, bone-hard and sharp and _primal_. Tina is still fluttering around him spasmodically as he surges into her, hard enough for the headboard to count the beats. She whispers his name reverently at his fervor, gentle hands holding him together as he jitters apart. Newt buries his face in her neck, smelling soap, sweat and her, and shudders to a halt, completely overcome.

Tina’s fingers brush the length of his spine as she murmurs sweetly in his ear. Newt collapses as carefully as he can manage, taking his weight on unsteady elbows and knees to kiss her. She accepts this until his trembling becomes unbearable, and he withdraws from her with a low sound, friction setting his teeth on edge. Fluid trails after him, a combination of her honeyed essence and his spunk, and he cleans it with a mindless flick of his fingers.

Newt kisses her before settling at her side and flinging a freckled forearm over his eyes, blotting out any extraneous stimulation. Tina rolls to brush her fingertips over his chest and stomach, trailing goosebumps until he can think linearly, thoughts falling into their usual pattern. 

He catches her wrist and kisses her palm, insecurity stealing into his chest. “How was that?” he asks, nervous of the answer but unable to let it go, and his Tina hums thoughtfully. She takes his hand and threads their fingers, mouth finding an enticing scar on his chest to taste curiously. He relaxes under the gentle press of her tongue.

“Perfect,” she finally says, and he chooses to believe her. “I...Newt, I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Newt raises his arm and cracks an eye open to watch her as she ducks her head and blushes. He smooths a hand over her sex-rumpled hair while his thoughts flow like honey, mellow and golden. It takes a while to come up with a suitable reply

“That wasn’t entirely me,” he finally settles on. “You helped yourself.”

Tina shakes her head. “Not really,” she insists. “You did it all. You made me feel _wanted_.” Her eyes skip away shyly and Newt reflects on this. He leans in to kiss her lazily, and she smiles when he pulls away. “It was wonderful,” she decides, and she is a warm and sated weight where she presses against him, eyes hazy with afterglow.

“It was,” he agrees, and Tina tucks herself into his side. Her fingers draw lines between the freckles dotting his chest, and Newt closes his eyes and allows his mind to drift serenely. “We should do that again,” he mumbles, half asleep and not thinking, and Tina’s laughter thrums throughout him and warms him from within.

“We should,” she concurs, and he smiles and knows no more.

*


End file.
